


Talented

by names_are_boring



Series: Countdown to Christmas [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Figure skaters, Fluffy, Kisses, M/M, Teenlock, ice hockey, it’s cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 14:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17122727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/names_are_boring/pseuds/names_are_boring
Summary: Hockey John and Figure Skater Sherlock meet up at practice on a particularly rough day.





	Talented

***

Every week the hockey team and the figure skaters fight for who gets the rink first. If the hockey coach shows up first, then they get it, but if he’s late, then the figure skaters are allowed to practice for the next two hours, which cuts into the hockey players time. 

It’s become a real problem, a problem that the owners of the rink aren’t too pleased about. Nevertheless, it’s an issue that no one has been able to solve.

The hockey teams coach, Coach B, was known for his quick temper, like most of his players. All of the figure skaters try to avoid him and his roughhousing players as much as they can, but sadly that’s not always possible. 

Coach Eliza’s level headed and pacifist personality has prevented many fights, but you just can’t stop them all. 

Today started off roughly. Rain drenched the city, putting a damper on all hopes for an adventure. School was slow and teachers gave more homework than they cared to grade. The bus was late, which caused an uproar from parents. Today was an all around sucky day.. and it kept getting worse. 

“You’re kidding!? Not these saps again! Coach better show up, or I swear I’m going to start a riot.” Thomas groaned out as he tossed his gear onto the bench. 

“They aren’t that bad, Tom. Miss Eliza isn’t even here yet, so we have time.” John slung his bag onto the floor next to his feet. The figure skaters were trickling in like ants today, one after the other showing up. Some were already gliding on the ice. John scanned the small crowd for a certain brunette. 

“He’s not here yet, John.” Mike slapped his hand down onto Johns shoulder, causing the blonde to startle. His cheeks flushed crimson at Mikes insinuation. 

“W-what? I don’t- hey look, Coach is here!” John twisted out of Mikes embrace to point towards the hallway. Coach B trudged in with a sour expression. His wide frame was covered by a heavy zip up jacket. He wasn’t wearing his typically seen joggers, instead his sturdy legs were left bare with only gym shorts. Maybe he was upset because of that.. the rink was a cold place after all. 

“Watson!” He barked once reaching his players. The boys sat up straighter as his voice filled the room. 

“Yes, Coach?” John took a few steps forward so he could meet him at the bench. 

“Go clear the ice for me.” Coach B practically growled. John wasn’t known for backing away from a challenge, and believe it, getting the figure skaters off their ice was a challenge. 

John, who was still wearing his tennis shoes, walked up to the opening of the rink and stood on the step. Looking out at the people already on the ice, he counted at least seven- no eight skaters. Okay, this could either go smoothly or be a complete disaster. John cupped his hands around his mouth to form a megaphone of sorts. 

“Hey! Coach B said get off the ice! It’s time for practice!” John called out, but was ignored. “Hey, get off the ice!” He tried again, but no one listened to him. John looked over his shoulder at his teammates who blankly stared back at him. Thomas got up from where he was sitting, grabbed Johns skates, and headed towards him. 

“Here, I’ll clear the rink of these twinks.” Tom shoved the skates into Johns chest, then hopped onto the ice. He started circling some of the others and called out in mock amusement. “Go on pansy! It’s the real men’s turn.” Thomas twirled around them and stuck out his tongue. He was asking for it. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to John, but-

“You arse!” The guy Thomas was following reached back then slammed his fist into the side of Toms face, sending the boy flying across the ice. 

“Oh shit..” someone muttered from behind John. That was all it took for the silent rain storm to become a violent tornado. 

***

Sherlock was lacing up his skates in the locker room when he looked down at his phone. He was late for practice, not that he actually needed it. Eliza was kind enough to teach a class the basics and then help them define their forms, but he really didn’t need to training. He learned how to skate at a young age, but this wasn’t why he showed up almost every day after school. 

His mind was on a blonde. A short blonde with deep blue eyes that drew you in until you were drowning in their depth. A blonde that appeared meek, but had a fighter's spirit, and couldn’t back down from a problem. This blonde was fierce and strong, yet approachable and- cute. Definitely, he is definitely cute. His soft eyes and roundish nose, oh and that smile. That smile could stop grown men in their tracks. He probably has stopped-

Sherlock shook off the thought. He needed to head out to meet Eliza before the others did. He dusted off his jacket, then- with practiced steps- walked out on his skates. 

As he reached the opening to the rink, he heard it. The air was heavy with musk and anger. The nice icy cold smell has been ruined by the tormented grunts of metal on an abused flooring. Shouts of anger and provoking curses flung around the room. Chaos has arisen in the ice rink. 

Sherlock watched as his ‘teammates’ tackled and wrestles the hockey boys. Fists flung in the air, bits of ice followed suit. Sherlock’s heart sped up as he searched the tumbling figures for a familiar face. Where is he? Sherlock couldn’t help that his hands became sweaty and clammy. He needed to make sure he was safe. 

The brunette did what he thought was smartest, and walked straight up to the crowd. Mike sat back on the bench, watching, Sherlock noted. If Mike was this calm, then that meant his friend wasn’t in any danger. 

“Sherlock! Get over here!” Mikes loud voice reached his ears, causing him to look his way. Sherlock obeyed and walked up to the bench. 

“He’s gone off to the stalls to get Eliza. Said she was the only one who could stop this. Coach B just walked off. He claimed this was ‘good’ and would ‘toughen up’ your lot.” Mike looked dismayed at his own choice of words. This wasn’t going to help anyone. Sherlock gave a curt nod, then headed to the ice. Mike called out to him, but it did nothing to stop his actions. 

The seventeen kids on the ice didn’t notice when he stepped on. They didn’t notice when he swirled around them. They didn’t even notice when he started pulling kids off, one by one. 

He grabbed onto Angels wrist and yanked him off the brunette he was beating. 

“Angel, that’s enough. Go find your Stefhan and get him out of here. I believe he is badly bruised.” Sherlock motioned towards the other boy. Angel looked up at him in anger, which quickly turned to panic as realization dawned. He helped the poor sod, that Angel hit, up and dusted him off. As Angel skated off, Sherlock counted. Three down, many more to go. 

*** 

John raced back into the room with Eliza on his tail. He was not prepared for the sight that met him. Both the figure skaters and the hockey team were sitting on the benches being lectured by one angry and unamused Sherlock Holmes. 

“This is childish, and quite frankly ridiculous! You behave as children, and could have broken something. Would you have been happy to have to sit out the rest of the year? Hmm? A broken wrist or ankle would mean the end of your hockey or skating.” Sherlock huffed as he stared at the bruised players before him. This was hopeless. 

“Nicely put, Sherlock. Practice is canceled for the next week. I’m not rewarding bad behavior. If you act like children, I will treat you as such. You know how I feel about fighting, and yet I hear that one of my own has started this mess. Who threw the first punch?” Eliza stared down her kids with a piercing glare. 

“It was Bradley!” 

“Angie, you skunk!” Bradley shot up from his position on the ground to stare murder at the girl behind him. She didn’t seem a bit frightened by his outburst. 

“Sit down Brad. I’m calling your mother. This would be your fifth strike. You’re done.” Eliza has given too many chances. She’s over it. 

As Bradley and Eliza go at it, John makes his way to the side of the rink. He leans against the wall there and watches the scene unfold. He almost misses Sherlock scooting closer to him. 

“You did this? How’d you manage to pull them apart?” John has to look up at the brunette who is staring down at him intently. 

“It was simple. I had to physically pull them apart, almost shouted bloody murder at that one kid. The one with the scar on his eyebrow.” Sherlock pointed at his own eyebrow to explain. 

“That’s Thomas… he can be a prick. We often want to fight him. I don’t understand how he hasn’t gotten himself killed.” John informed him. “I guess practice isn’t happening for either of us..” John scanned the room, then sighed. “Coach left us, typical.” 

“I’ll practice with you.” Sherlock offered, trying to keep his voice nonchalant. John froze where he stood as a blush crept along his skin. He looked terribly uncomfortable, good going Sherlock. “Or not-“ 

“No! Wait, I mean, thank you. I’d love to practice with you, but do you even know how to play hockey? It can get brutal.” John attempted to fix his awkward stammering. Sherlock sighed in relief, silently glad that he wasn’t rejected. 

“That’s not a problem. I’m an excellent skater and a quick learner.” Sherlock propped his elbow against the wall above Johns head. 

“Yeah, okay, we’ll see about that.” Johns blush returned as the brunette leaned over him. Hovered, he was hovering over him. His body language was clear, claiming, daring someone to interrupt them. 

“Alright.” Sherlock smirked down at him. Finally, they were getting somewhere. 

Mike sat back and watched as his friends interacted. A warm smile spread across his face as he watched them. This has taken too long, they should have gotten together months ago. There’s no use thinking about the past, Mike stood up and headed home 

*** 

With the others gone, they had the rink to themselves. John might be having too much fun. 

“Watch it, Sherlock!” John zipped past the brunette, a smirk of triumph plastered on his face. 

Sherlock didn’t let him get too far. He quickly caught up to John. Using the borrowed hockey stick, he snatched the puck from the blonde and headed in the opposite direction, gaining him a surprised ‘hey!’ from John. 

Sherlock made it to the goal, but John was right there to block him. The puck went flying across the ice as the two of them fought for dominance. John watched as the puck slid away from in between them, then smiled. Sherlock almost froze completely to stare at him, which was a big mistake on his behalf. He lost his balance and tripped over John's hockey stick, sending them both to the ice floor. 

Sherlock fell flat on his back, while John fell to his side. John's face mashed into Sherlock abdomen, knocking the air out of the brunette. It took them both a few seconds to come out of their dazes. John broke the silence with a sudden burst of laughter that was followed by the low rumble of Sherlock’s chuckle. 

“Bloody hell, Sherlock…” John sat up, pulled his gloves off, and wiped his face. “I’m an excellent skater, my arse!” John mocked as his face flushed from his laughter. 

“I am an excellent skater! I slipped, that’s all. Besides, you’re to blame for my slip up!” Sherlock sat up as well, joining John before they both stood up. John dusted off his pants, then stared up at Sherlock in confusion. 

“I’m to blame? How was that my fault?” Johns eyes widened, then his eyebrow popped up as he stared at the brunette. 

“You know.. You distracted me.” Sherlock waved him off, causing John to cross his arms over his chest. 

“And how did I do that? It sounds like you’re just embarrassed for slipping. You don’t have to lie about it, everyone slips at some point.” John tried offering a reassuring smile, but Sherlock turned pink and looked away. 

“That! Right there! You’re doing it again.” Sherlock accused as he avoided Johns gaze. 

“I’m- what- Wait, you mean?” As John began to understand, he felt heat rise to his chilled cheeks. “My smile? My smile distracted you? Sherlock, that’s ridiculous. You’re lying.” John didn’t know if he should smile again, laugh, or feel embarrassed. 

“You don’t have to believe me, but yes, it’s very distracting.” Sherlock kept staring at nothing in particular. 

“You could at least look at me, you know.” John tilted his head to the side so he could stare at the brunette at an angle. Sherlock thought about it, then finally returned his gaze. 

When their eyes met, something happened. Deep ocean blue met crystal grey. John felt the air leave his lungs as he watched Sherlock take a deep breath in. His darkened curls were messy and all over the place, his pale skin glistened from exercise, and his lips curved into a reserved grin. Sherlock studied every feature of Johns. He loved the way his nose and cheeks flushed red from the cold, loved the way he batted his blonde eyelashes, loved the way his lips twitched into a surprised smirk. 

Nothing else seemed to matter to either of them. They only had eyes for the other. John didn’t know if his skates moved on their own, or if he was being pulled forward. He didn’t know if gravity or some other force was the cause of his next few movements, but he would thank whoever gave him the courage to grab Sherlock by the collar and pull him down until their lips met. 

At first, Sherlock stared on in shock, then he sunk into the feeling. He melted away as John nibbled on his bottom lip. He felt the tension leave as his hands came up to cup John's face. He felt exposed as he parted his lips to allow John entry, yet he felt complete once there tongues connected. 

Everything happened so quickly, with so much passion and lust, that they lost balance and fell once more. They broke apart to laugh at their new positions. John still had his death grip on Sherlock shirt which effectively had Sherlock pinned to the ice. The brunette wiggled then sat up to connect their lips again. This kiss didn’t last long, but it was meaningful. 

“John, you’re crushing my rib with your elbow.” Sherlock spoke up once they broke apart. John jumped back, and away from him. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to.” He stood up, then offered Sherlock his hand. Once they were both standing and stable, John reached over and hugged the taller boy. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for months..” He whispered into Sherlock’s shirt. 

“Really? I have, as well.” Sherlock smiled and hugged him back. It seems going to those boring practices finally paid off. 

***


End file.
